


while flowers bloom in the desert

by asael



Series: ripe & blooming [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: Dimitri can't shake the memory of what happened between him and Claude. It sits heavy on his shoulders until he finally chooses to confront it.Written for Dimiclaude Week 2020, day four, 'healing'.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: ripe & blooming [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593106
Comments: 28
Kudos: 437





	while flowers bloom in the desert

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct followup to [we will fall like ripe fruit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258221), so please read that first for context!

The war was going well. With the addition of Claude’s Almyran troops, the Empire could not stand against them - it was only a matter of time. Dimitri should have been pleased, and part of him was, though he was not fond of the bloodshed, of the war itself. Still, victory was pleasing, and the prospect of future peace even more so. They just had to get there, they just had to keep themselves together until they did.

That, of course, was what Dimitri feared would be the problem.

His ghosts had not left him - they probably never would. But he knew better than to give in to them, to give in to his rage and guilt and fear. He was a leader, and he would lead. He’d caused enough pain with that already. He could live with his ghosts, with his fractured mind, so long as he did not hurt anyone else.

But that was what he feared had happened.

Realistically, Dimitri knew that what had happened in Almyra was not his fault. He knew that they had been in an impossible situation, that Claude had been clever enough to see what they needed to do in order to survive. The fact that they’d made it out alive was proof that he had done the right thing, that _they_ had done the right thing.

Even if what they had done had been far more intimate than he thought either of them were prepared for.

He liked Claude. He always had, ever since their days at the academy - Claude was clever and friendly, always ready with a smile or a scheme. They hadn’t been close friends, but Dimitri had admired him in the same way he admired anyone who had the skill to move through the world so easily.

He knew now, of course, that it wasn’t easy. He knew that Claude had secrets, that people distrusted him deeply, that he had been hated and scorned by many. His easy attitude back then had been a hard-fought victory. Not quite an act, but never quite real, either. Dimitri admired him even more now, knowing that, knowing what they both had been through and how strong Claude needed to be to survive.

He was still strong, he was still clever. He was more serious now, less likely to laugh things off or tease someone into a blush, but even in the midst of war he occasionally found time for those things. His assistance had been invaluable. With his support, Dimitri now led both the Alliance and Kingdom armies, and a few battalions of Almyran troops on top of that. Though never as close as his Blue Lions, Claude was still one of Dimitri’s greatest allies.

He owed Claude a great deal, even before the events in Almyra. Now that debt might have become too great to be paid.

Dimitri had not dreamed of being Claude’s lover. In truth, he had not dreamed of being anyone’s lover, not for years, but Claude’s? Purely impossible. Claude would not want one such as him, and Dimitri’s touch was more likely to sully him than cause pleasure. That was what he had always believed, and so the moments when he saw Claude smile and found it difficult to breathe, the days when Claude’s presence was the best comfort he could think of - he pushed them aside, thanked the Goddess for Claude’s friendship and support, and moved on.

It was enough, _more_ than enough, that Claude seemed to like him. That Claude threw his lot in with Dimitri’s, trusted him, believed in him. Anything more would have been impossible to dream of, to wish for.

And then Almyra happened.

They hadn’t spoken of it. They hadn’t told anyone - at least, Dimitri hadn’t, and he sincerely doubted Claude would have, Claude who held all his secrets close to his chest.

Claude seemed normal. Claude smiled at him like he always had, and came up with impressive plans and strategies, and kept the Alliance lords in line. He seemed unaffected by what had happened, what had passed between them.

Dimitri… tried to seem normal. He thought he managed, most of the time. There was so much to worry about, so much to think about, that his thoughts could not linger on it most of the time. But sometimes at the oddest of moments he would remember, would be unable to push it from his mind.

Claude’s mouth beneath his. Dimitri’s name on Claude’s lips, so quiet. Claude on his back, bare, fingers pressed inside himself. The tight heat of him, the way Claude had moaned as Dimitri entered him, the way he’d pressed back against every movement as if he’d wanted it.

As if he’d _wanted_ it.

But Claude hadn’t chosen that. He hadn’t chosen Dimitri. He’d been forced into it, made to put on a show for a man who was more a beast than even Dimitri at his worst. 

In his darkest moments, Dimitri wondered if he had made the right choice. If, perhaps, it would have been easier for Claude if Dimitri had allowed that man, that Almyran lord, to have him instead. At least then he wouldn’t have been used like that by someone he trusted, someone he considered a friend, someone he had to see every day.

But the thought of that always brought back the anger, the pure rush of fury he’d felt when the man had said it. That if Dimitri would not take Claude, _he_ would. In truth, Dimitri did not believe that he would have been able to allow that. In truth, he should have killed the man for the implication alone. He did not deserve to touch Claude.

Neither did Dimitri.

Claude had said it was all right, had said he didn’t mind - but Claude lied so easily, so smoothly. Could he have meant it? How could Dimitri ever know? And even if he had meant it, that didn’t mean Claude had wanted it, had enjoyed it. It didn’t mean that he didn’t regret it.

These were the circles Dimitri’s mind always found itself in when his thoughts drifted to that day. He hated that when he remembered it he felt a rush of pleasure, he hated that more than once he’d thought of Claude’s body beneath his and ended with a hand on himself. He hated that he could not put it behind him and move on, like Claude seemed to have done.

It wasn’t constant, at least. And in the end, wasn’t it just another thing to feel guilty about? The burdens never seemed to grow lighter, and that was fine. That was fair. He would carry this one along with all the others. At least he was keeping it to himself, not making his distress obvious.

Or so he thought, but of course it wasn’t that easy. Not when Dedue was so observant, so aware of Dimitri.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” he asked one night, solemn and solicitous. It was growing late, past dinnertime, and Dimitri was poring over the information their scouts had brought back about the Empire. They would march soon, and he needed to have some idea of what was to come. Dedue had brought him tea, and a small meal, though he wasn’t hungry.

But he’d been distracted. He’d been thinking about Claude.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he wanted to leave it at that, but Dedue looked at him. That was all he did - he looked at Dimitri as if he knew him, and he waited, and Dimitri could not take any of it anymore.

He sighed, looked down at the teacup in his hand. There was no need for details, but - “I believe I may have hurt someone. I - took something that they had not offered to me. At the time, they claimed it was all right, but I am not so sure.”

Dedue seemed to take his words at face value, did not ask for any further detail. He could probably tell that Dimitri didn’t want to talk about it. “You believe they lied to you?”

“I don’t know,” Dimitri said, looking up at Dedue now. “I believe they might have said the same thing no matter what. They might have felt as if they had no other choice.”

Dedue’s brow furrowed, just a little. “If that’s the case, the solution is clear. An apology cannot go amiss. If they lied to you, and you truly did hurt them, they will appreciate it. If they weren’t lying, I am certain they won’t be offended by it.”

It seemed obvious when Dedue put it like that. Certainly even if Claude hadn’t minded, Dimitri owed him an apology for not being more chivalrous after it was all over - for not making sure he was all right, that Dimitri hadn’t hurt him, that the entire awful affair hadn’t been too upsetting.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “As usual.”

Dedue smiled, the barest hint of a thing. “Be sure to eat something first, Your Highness.”

Dimitri nodded, and Dedue left. He turned it over in his mind, put his thoughts in order, searched for the right words. The right things to say to Claude, because yes, Dedue was entirely correct. Dimitri needed to speak to him. Dimitri should have spoken to him long ago.

He ate mechanically, with no thought to what he was putting in his mouth. All his thoughts were of Claude. When he was done, he went to the mirror and straightened his clothing, his hair, feeling foolish as he did so. He saw Claude often these days, and rarely worried about his own appearance - but in this moment it felt like it mattered.

Or maybe he was just procrastinating.

Taking a deep breath, Dimitri steadied himself. Then he left his room and walked the short distance to Claude’s.

It felt strange to live in his old dormitory room. The bed barely held him now, the room often felt cramped after all of his nights outdoors, but there weren’t a lot of options so long as they were using Garreg Mach as their headquarters. It was strange, too, to have Claude so close.

He knocked on the door quietly. Claude was there - he could tell from the line of light spilling out beneath the door. Claude often kept late nights, planning and scheming, writing to his contacts in the Alliance and elsewhere. His help was invaluable, had been invaluable.

If what had happened in Almyra had not shaken their own alliance, surely this wouldn’t either. Dimitri had to believe that.

The door swung open, and there was Claude. He was dressed comfortably, not for council or for war, in a simple shirt and trousers. He was not wearing shoes. In the warm lamplight, his skin glowed, his eyes looked darker. He was beautiful - he had always been beautiful, and Dimitri had always known that.

It was not fair that someone like him should be able to harm that.

“Dimitri,” Claude said with a smile. He always treated Dimitri so casually - that hadn’t changed, though Dimitri thought the ease that it once had come with had faded slightly. But maybe that was only his imagination.

“Claude,” he said, grave and polite. “May I come in?” This was not something to be done half in the hall, where anyone could hear. No one knew what had happened in Almyra. For Claude’s reputation, Dimitri intended that no one should ever know. He was a beast, and such things could be expected from a creature like that, but Claude was not.

It was, as always, difficult to read Claude, but Dimitri thought he saw a flicker of surprise on his face. “Sure,” Claude said, and stepped back to let Dimitri in, closing the door behind him. “I was just reading some messages from our spies in Enbarr. Edelgard is marshaling her forces, but we knew that already.”

“I am not here to talk about the war,” Dimitri said. Claude’s room was a mess, as it always had been when they were there to attend the Academy. Stacks of books everywhere, maps rolled up in corners, piles of paper with no apparent organizational system. It was oddly comforting to see, to know that Claude had not changed in that way.

“No?” Claude said, and he smiled again. “Then what’s up? Got something on your mind?”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, and he took a breath, forcing himself to focus. To keep his mind on why he was there. “I want to apologize to you.”

Claude was silent, but only for a moment. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Your Kingliness,” he said, voice light and friendly.

“That isn’t true,” Dimitri said. He knew Claude well enough to be able to tell that Claude was wary, that perhaps he did not want to talk about this. Part of him wanted to respect that, wanted to let the subject drop and walk away, but that was the part of him that was a coward. He would not allow it. “Please, Claude. Listen to me.”

Claude sighed and straightened, looking up at Dimitri. “All right, all right. I’m listening.”

Dimitri took a breath. “What happened in Almyra - should not have happened. I know that neither of us was given a choice, but I still owe you an apology. I hope that I… that I did not hurt you.”

“Dimitri.” Claude rubbed a hand across his eyes, looking suddenly tired. “Don’t feel guilty about that. It’s like you said - neither of us had a choice. You didn’t hurt me. See? I’m fine.” He spread his arms wide, summoning up a smile.

“Yes, but -” Dimitri stopped, unable to put his thoughts into words. At least, not acceptable words.

_But I’m… big, and you were so tight._

_But I can’t always control my strength, and you are so very breakable._

_But there are so many ways I could have hurt you that are not visible._

_But I should have made sure afterwards that you were all right._

“Hey,” Claude said. “You don’t have to apologize. You just did what I told you to, right?” He made his voice lighter, teasing, and he smiled that smile Dimitri was so familiar with, the one that slid onto his face when he was deliberately lightening the mood. “We both came out the other side alive and well, and hey - even if it wasn’t your choice, I had a good time.” He winked. “You’re not exactly hard to look at, you know.”

He was teasing, but Dimitri could not see it in his eyes. His smile was perfect, but there was the slightest crack in his facade.

Dimitri had no way of knowing how much of what Claude said was true, what he intended as simply a joke, what might be a flat-out lie. He decided, right then and there, that it didn’t matter.

“Claude,” he said, serious. “Your assistance in this war has been invaluable to me, and your friendship is a far greater gift than I deserve. We are both alive, it’s true, but I - cannot forget what passed between us.” He looked down for a moment, long enough to gather his strength, and then he met Claude’s eyes. “I admire you greatly. I must apologize for what happened. I swear to you that I did not want you that way.”

Claude closed his eyes, and his smile flickered. Something like pain passed over his face, and then it was gone, and his smile was steady again. “Hey, no worries. I didn’t think you did, so -”

“I would have wanted to court you properly,” Dimitri said. He wanted the record straight. He wanted to be clear, to be honest. Claude deserved that. “I would have wanted you to understand you are precious to me, that you are not something to be used. I would have wanted you to come to me willingly.”

Claude stared at him. “What?”

“You deserved a choice, and it was taken from you. I never wanted to hurt you, or to - to be a tool that was used to hurt you.” Dimitri looked down now, running out of words. “It’s that I need to apologize for. My inability to protect you.”

“Dimitri…” Claude was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, there was something in his voice that Dimitri could not identify. “You saved me once already, at Derdriu. It isn’t your job to protect me, not now and not then. When that happened - we protected each other. We did what we had to do.”

He reached out, and Dimitri saw his hand hesitate for just a moment. Then Claude’s fingers were on his chin, lifting his head so their eyes could meet again. “I don’t regret it. I don’t regret surviving, and I don’t regret being with you. You feel too much guilt over things you can’t control. I won’t allow you to feel that guilt because of me, too.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure what he saw in Claude’s eyes, but his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” he said, and it seemed inadequate.

“You always manage to surprise me,” Claude said, his voice soft now. “The things you say…”

Dimitri was not sure how to respond to that. He saw Claude take a breath, saw the hint of a smile slip back on to his lips.

“If you wanted me to come to you willingly, all you ever had to do was ask.”

Dimitri studied Claude’s face, trying to find the truth in it. Claude was not teasing him, he thought. Claude was many things, but he wasn’t the sort of person who would mock him in a moment like this. He felt something in his chest, something soft and hopeful. “I never dreamed of it.”

“Of course not,” Claude said with a soft sigh. His fingers slipped from Dimitri’s chin to his cheek. They were warm, calloused from so many bowstrings. “You would deny yourself the world because you thought you didn’t deserve it. But you do, you know. Trust me, if you won’t trust yourself.”

“Claude,” Dimitri said, and Claude looked up at him, eyes glittering, and Dimitri remembered the moment right after they were captured, the moment Claude’s lips pressed close to his ear and he whispered, hurried and tense, _Trust me_. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Claude said. “Please.”

Dimitri leaned down and pressed his lips to Claude’s.

It was not the first time they’d kissed. Dimitri would never forget that first time, would never forget Claude’s warm lips against his own. But he would never forget this kiss, either, freely given and gladly received.

Dimitri could not taste anything, had not been able to taste anything for many years, but still he thought Claude’s lips were sweeter than any confection he could dream of. His arms slid around Claude’s waist, pulling Claude flush against him. Though some part of Dimitri was alert to any sign of discomfort, ready to give Claude space if he needed, Claude did not try to pull away. On the contrary, he seemed to melt against Dimitri, leaning into him, letting their kiss deepen.

When they finally parted, Dimitri did not let Claude go. He leaned down instead, resting his forehead against Claude’s, silently thanking the Goddess for this chance he had been given. 

He had never dreamed of this. Perhaps it was time to begin to let himself dream.

“Stay here tonight,” Claude said, and Dimitri’s hands on him tightened. Just a little, an unconscious movement, a desire to hold Claude closer. A desire for _more_ , because as careful and as chaste as that kiss had been, Dimitri did want more. He could admit that to himself. 

“I don’t want to move too fast,” he said, voice soft, and Claude laughed.

“You’ve already been inside me,” Claude said, and Dimitri felt himself flush - not at the words themselves, but the ease with which Claude said it. “I’m not worried about that.”

Dimitri had not yet let go of Claude, and he realized his words and his actions were telling different stories. He didn’t want to move too fast, he wanted Claude to have all the choice that had been taken from him, but at the same time he did not want to let Claude go. He wanted to stay in this small room with him, to learn if the cramped dormitory beds could hold them both. He wanted to know that he had the right to touch Claude, he wanted to give Claude pleasure, to give him everything that he had been unable to before.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” Claude said, and his eyes grew serious, though his smile did not fade. “What happened in Almyra - it isn’t a terrible memory for me, though I wouldn’t have wanted it to happen like that, either. But what I do want - what I would like very much - is to make a better memory.”

He stepped back then, finally pulling away from Dimitri, and held out his hand.

“I want you to stay.” His smile grew more playful, teasing. “I want you in my bed. I want to find out what you taste like, and I want to come with your name on my lips. I want your hands on me, and I want you in me, and I want to know that you want me.”

Dimitri could not speak. He felt warm all over, his cheeks hot, and he knew he was blushing. His stomach was tight, and he knew - he _knew_ \- that it wouldn’t take much for Claude to have any of those things, all of those things.

“Then,” he said, “I will stay.” He reached out and took Claude’s hand.

Claude pulled him closer, and then they were kissing again. This time there was a hunger in it, the caution from before melting away now that their desires had been acknowledged. Without pulling away, Claude led him back towards his bed. Dimitri spared it only a glance, only long enough to be certain there were no books scattered across it, and then he was pushing Claude onto it, kissing him again, kneeling down at the edge of the bed.

“May I touch you?” he asked, and even he could hear the edge of desire in it. For a moment, Dimitri felt embarrassed - and then he pushed that away. What was there to be embarrassed about? Wanting Claude was the most natural thing he had ever felt.

“Yes,” Claude said. He reached out, running his fingers through Dimitri’s hair, and then he pulled his shirt off, dropping it carelessly on the floor.

Dimitri had seen him without clothing before - had seen all of him - but it was different this time. This was for him, for no one but him, and he let himself enjoy the sight, let himself enjoy it even more when Claude lifted his hips and slid off his pants too, slid everything off until he was bare before Dimitri.

He remembered Claude seeming remarkably unselfconscious about his body, remembered how he did not seem to care who looked at him. And why would he? He was perfect.

Claude had the lithe, muscled body of someone whose skill lay in quick movement, who needed to be able to wield a bow and captain a wyvern mid-flight. His scars befit that sort of fighting, showed his skill - they were few, silvery lines across tan skin, only enhancing his beauty.

Dimitri met Claude’s eyes for just long enough to be certain this was allowed, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Claude’s skin.

He had not been able to do this before. He had not really been able to touch Claude at all - hadn’t wanted to take more from him than he’d already been forced to give. But he’d wanted to, he wanted to very badly. To finally be able to do it was everything.

He put his mouth on Claude’s shoulder, sucked a mark into the skin there, dragged his teeth down Claude’s collarbone. His hands slid up Claude’s thighs, pressing them apart so that Dimitri could get closer, so that he could explore those silvery scars, one curving along Claude’s side, tracing it with his fingers and then bending to follow that with his tongue.

Claude’s chest shuddered, breath coming in staccato gasps as Dimitri touched him, explored him. He felt pleasure blooming inside him, as well, his own pants growing tighter, but for now he ignored that. For now he wanted as much of Claude as he could get, wanted to taste and touch every inch of him.

“Claude,” he said, voice rough, and he leaned down and put his mouth to the skin above Claude’s knee, pressed open-mouthed kisses up his thigh until he reached the hard length of Claude’s cock. He nuzzled the soft skin of Claude’s inner thigh, pressed his teeth into the flesh and heard Claude gasp, and then he wrapped his hand around Claude.

He paused then, one hand on Claude, mouth hungry for him. He paused because he needed to, because he had to look up and meet Claude’s eyes, he had to know -

“Is this all right?”

“Yes,” Claude said, breathless, “yes, _please_.”

And so Dimitri took Claude into his mouth.

Claude moaned at the first touch of his tongue, Dimitri sliding it around the head of his cock. He couldn’t taste anything, but he liked the feeling of Claude in his mouth, he liked the soft sounds Claude was making. He remembered - Goddess, he would never forget - the sounds of pleasure Claude had made while Dimitri fucked him, and he wanted that again, he wanted to draw out those gasps and moans and broken breathless words.

He took Claude deeper, bobbed his head, lavishing attention on him until Claude was dripping with it, writhing beneath his attentions. Dimitri reached down to touch himself then, palming himself through his pants. He thought he could come like this, Claude in his mouth and his hand on himself, but then Claude pushed at him with unsteady hands.

“Dimitri - Dimitri, stop -”

He stopped, of course he stopped, a shock of unpleasant fear going through him. Claude’s cock slipped from his mouth, and Dimitri looked up at him. Had he gone too far? Done too much? There was no world in which Dimitri would take anything else from Claude that he did not want to give.

But it wasn’t that.

“I want to see you.” Claude was flushed, his length hard and slick with Dimitri’s spit and his own fluids. “I want to touch you. I want you to fuck me.”

Dimitri’s erection twitched at that, the need in Claude’s voice, the way he laid his desires out so openly.

“Whatever you want,” he said, and he meant it wholeheartedly. Still, it was with some reluctance that Dimitri pulled away from Claude and stood, beginning to take his own clothing off.

This, he hadn’t done before. Claude had stripped with no shame in front of those men, but he had not forced Dimitri to, he had done nothing more than open his shirt and his pants, enabling Dimitri to keep the rest of himself covered. And Dimitri had appreciated it, had not wanted strangers to see him like that - though he had not wanted strangers to see _Claude_ like that, either.

Part of him, the darker part, wished he could find those men and pluck out every eye that had witnessed Claude’s uncovered body.

He pushed that away, focused on Claude in front of him instead, Claude’s beautiful form his and his alone.

And as for himself -

Unlike Claude, Dimitri could not help but feel self-conscious. His body was not well-made and eye-catching, like Claude’s, it was scarred and broken. His years alone, half-mad and wandering, had left him with plenty of permanent markings. He’d only recently begun eating properly again, filling out his frame. He did not even particularly enjoy looking at himself in the mirror - how could he expect Claude too?

But if this was what Claude wanted, Dimitri would give it to him. This, and everything else.

Finally his clothing was in a pile on the floor, and he stood before Claude. His erection had flagged a little, but still it felt good - much better - to be free of that confining cloth. He looked down at himself, at what felt like miles of scarred flesh, a creature who had lived for too long as an animal, his sins written across his body.

“Goddess,” Claude breathed, and Dimitri looked up, saw the expression on his face, “you’re gorgeous.”

He reached out a hand again, and Dimitri took it. Claude pulled him closer. “Come down here.”

Dimitri obeyed, climbing onto the bed with Claude, and the way Claude looked at him - he almost couldn’t take it. He didn’t know what to say, all he knew was that he felt as if he could catch fire simply from that gaze.

“Claude,” he said, and captured Claude’s lips in a hungry kiss. Claude’s hands were on him now, on his chest, sliding down his abdomen, clever fingers tracing the arcs of his scars and then away. Claude did not hesitate, showed no disgust - the way he’d looked at Dimitri, he seemed to feel none. Seemed to feel something else entirely.

Dimitri did not understand how he had lived so long without Claude looking at him like that.

“Dimitri,” Claude moaned against his lips, and Dimitri realized they were pressed together, that he’d pressed himself to Claude, pinning him to the bed. His erection slid against Claude’s hip, and it took a feat of control to keep from rutting against him, finding his release that way.

But Claude had said -

“I want to-” Dimitri slipped his hand between Claude’s thighs, fingers searching for his entrance. He remembered, he remembered being inside Claude, remembered the impossible heat of it, remembered the sounds Claude had made, how much he’d seemed to like it. He wanted that again, he wanted all of it, only this time it would be because Claude had given it to him freely. This time it would be a thousand times better.

“Yeah,” Claude said, spreading his legs. His voice was tight. “The table by the bed. There should be oil.”

He did not want to leave the warmth of Claude’s body for even a moment, but he forced himself to. There was a small vial of oil there, and Dimitri did not waste time. He spilled it onto his fingers, making them slick, and then he was on Claude again, pressing him into the sheets, hand between his legs.

He had seen Claude do this before, and this time he wanted to do it for him, wanted to open him up. He hooked one arm under Claude’s knee, lifting him easily and spreading him wide, and then he pressed the fingers of his other hand against Claude’s hole, pushing into him. Just one at first, but he was eager, and Claude was eager, and soon enough he was pressing another in, readying him.

Claude’s hands gripped the bedsheets. Already a bit of a mess, he was only making them messier, bracing himself as he arched and moaned. He was hard, cock dripping on his stomach, head thrown back. Dimitri couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away.

“ _Dimitri_ ,” Claude said, and his voice sounded wrecked, and Dimitri didn’t think he could take it anymore. He slid his fingers out of Claude, catching hold of his leg instead, positioning Claude just as he wished - legs spread wide and up in the air, hips off the bed, bent almost in half, but Claude barely seemed to notice.

He’d always been awfully flexible, Dimitri thought distantly, and then he was hooking Claude’s legs over his shoulders and pressing into him.

He had never forgotten the hot, tight embrace of Claude’s body, had never been able to forget it. He pushed past that slight resistance and Claude gasped beneath him, breathless. No one was watching this time, no one got to see Claude fall apart except him, and Dimitri was falling apart too. 

The position he had Claude in made it easy to thrust into him, meant that his cock slid in at just the right angle to make Claude arch and cry out. He could see Claude’s face, could see every thoughtless burst of pleasure that crashed through him, could watch him as he lost himself in it.

Even before, he had been unable to look at anything but Claude. He’d forgotten the room around them, the men watching, the situation they were in. Now - now there was nothing else. Only this, only him and Claude, and Dimitri let himself go, fucking Claude with harsh, barely-controlled movements, washing away all thought, all memory of anything but this moment in this room.

Claude felt so good around him, so tight, Dimitri wanted to do this forever. But he could feel his climax approaching, and he wanted it, needed it, needed to feel Claude fall apart beneath him. He thought of trying to touch Claude, stroke him through it - but then Claude was shuddering beneath him, tightening around him, crying out. The sight of Claude coming, of his own spend on his stomach, was almost enough to bring Dimitri to the brink.

All it took then was another thrust, and the pleasure was almost too much. Later Dimitri would find that he’d gripped Claude’s leg hard enough to leave small fingertip-sized bruises, and Claude would laugh and say he didn’t mind at all, that he would treasure them. In that moment he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but reach his climax and release inside Claude, filling him.

Reality came back slowly. Dimitri slid out of Claude, lowered his legs to the bed, lowered himself to the bed. It was small, not really big enough for two, especially not if one was Dimitri’s size - but he didn’t mind. He pressed close, gathered Claude into his arms, and Claude allowed it. For now, they both ignored the sticky mess between them.

“Claude,” Dimitri said, and then he didn’t know what to say. He pressed his nose into Claude’s hair instead, kissed his temple, enjoyed the way Claude relaxed against him. He felt sated, pleased, tired. He felt like something which had been broken was beginning to mend.

Claude made a soft sound and turned his head so that he could press his lips to Dimitri’s, a lazy but sweet kiss. “You’ll stay?” His voice was rough. He sounded wrecked, and Dimitri felt some pardonable pride at that.

“As long as you want me to,” he said. They could worry about everything else later. Right now, this - Claude in his arms, the future unfolding before them - was all that mattered.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Claude said. He slipped his arms around Dimitri and curled close, and everything felt right.


End file.
